“So, you're about to debut your latest movie, the first film in The Institution trilogy, which is based on the bestselling book series by K.L. Howard that everyone's talking about, right?”
“That's right, Debbie. I'm a huge fan of the books, and to get to play the main character is a dream come true for me.”
“Yes, I'm sure it is, and we'll get to talking about the film later. First, though, I want our audience to get to know a little bit more about you. I mean, it seems you can't go anywhere without seeing your face on a magazine cover or a billboard, but I want to get to the Sophie we don't know much about. How'd it all start for you?”
I pause before speaking again. “Well, I was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona, and it was in eighth grade that I really developed a passion for acting. Right before I started high school, I tried out for the Valley Youth Theater, and the three years I spent in that program changed my life.”
“Was that your first time acting?”
“Not quite. My best friend Marissa –”
“Shout out!” Riss says, holding her fist out, which I bump, and then we do the post-bump 'blow it up' gesture.
“… talked me into trying out for the school play. I had no idea what I was doing, but when I got into it, I found out that I really loved it. I tried so hard, and I ended up getting the lead role.”
“What play was it?”
“It was Peter Pan. I was Wendy.” I blush a little, staring at my white designer stiletto heels. “I actually had my first-ever kiss on that stage back in middle school. And you'll never guess who played Peter.”
“Who?” Debbie leans forward in anticipation.
I give a wry smile. “Ayden Saunders.”
A collective gasp goes up from the crowd, and even Debbie has to gawk a little. “Ayden Saunders? As in, Hollywood hunk Ayden Saunders?”
“That's him,” I reply. “Those first few years, we were practically joined at the hip. Every audition that came up, we did it together. He's so amazing.”
“Yes, he is, am I right, ladies?” Debbie smirks evilly, cuing the audience, who gives a chorus of cat-calls. “There have been rumors for years that you two are … I'll just say it, a couple. Any truth to that?”
I shake my head vigorously. “No, Debbie, it's not like that. He's just a really good friend. He's more like a brother than anything. I mean, I love him to death, but we've never been a couple.”
The crowd goes “Awww” in response.
“Well, we're going to step away for a commercial break, and we'll be right back with more from Sophie Devereaux!”
Another round of applause, the camera pulls back, and the commercial break begins.
Marissa mutes the TV again, giving me a wanton look. “To think, it could've been me who ended up with 'Hollywood hunk Ayden Saunders.' Why'd we break up again?”
I sigh. “Um … you were thirteen? That's kind of what thirteen-year old couples do.”
“I guess.”
“Come on, Riss. You were his first loooooooove,” I tease her, making silly kissy noises.
She makes a face. “Yeah, and now every fake-chested bimbo in Hollywood wants to jump him.”
“He's a big boy, Riss. You and I both know he's still basically the same guy we knew back in middle school.”
“Only hotter.”
“Don't led Fred hear you say that.”
“I won't.” Her eyes find the TV again. She sighs. “To think I let him go. And how on Earth did I end up marrying a guy named Fred?”
“What's wrong with Fred?”
“It's, like, somebody's grandfather's name!”
“Be nice, Riss, Fred's a sweetie. And your husband. And your baby daddy.”
“Don't remind me. I just want little Ricardo out of me.”
“You mean Marco.”
“Whatever,” she says flippantly. “Oop, we're back.” She unmutes the TV again.
“And we're back with up-and-coming young star Sophie Devereaux! So, anyway, Sophie, for those just joining us, before the commercial break we were talking about your early years.”
“Right.”
“Tell me about your family. Any actors in the bunch?”
“No, not really. My dad's an airline pilot, my mom's a great lawyer with the Phoenix District Attorney's office –”
“Really?” Debbie interrupts. “That must have been interesting growing up.”
“It sure was. My sister Kirsten is finishing up her degree in Government at USC, and my oldest sister Eve is a paralegal. Oh, and Eve's husband just happens to be bestselling fantasy author Joshua Harper.”
“I've heard of him,” Debbie says. “What's his book called again?”
“Knights of Exile. Sorry, Eve made me promise to mention them. Hi, guys!” I grin like an idiot, waving at the camera. The audience laughs.
“Jeez, you're shameless,” Riss says beside me. I softly punch her in the shoulder.
“So, anyway, your first big break came three years ago when you got a part in the teen comedy All the Way. What was that like?”
“Oh, my gosh!” I say, flustered. “My first time on a movie set. It was so amazing, and I felt like such a newbie! But my fellow cast members, especially Dylan and Jewel, were so helpful. I probably wouldn't have made it through without them.”
“And then last year, you got to be in your first blockbuster film, playing the title role in The President's Daughter. What was it like to have Tom Hanks as a father?”
I smile broadly. “It was phenomenal! He's so nice, and he's so talented, and it was one of the biggest honors of my life to get to share the screen with him.”
A smattering of applause, and then Debbie continues, “And now, you're about to debut your first starring role in The Institution. Early reviews have been spectacular. For those out there who have never read the books, can you tell us what it's about?”
“Sure! It takes place in the future, when much of the world's population has been destroyed by a mysterious virus. As a result of the virus, some kids start being born with supernatural abilities. The thing is, the government sees these kids as a threat to national security, so they round them up and send them to this place, which they tell everyone is a hospital, but it's really a high-tech prison. I play Allie, a teenage girl who's spent her whole life in hiding, and her only goal is to protect her little sister Celia, who has recently developed telekinetic powers.”
“What happens then?”
“Well …” I scrunch up my face, not wanting to reveal too much. “I promised I wouldn't spoil anything for people who don't know the plot, so I'll just say that it's a great story. There's a lot of action, and romance, and really cool effects. The director, Lance Scoville, is so brilliant. He loves the books too, and he really wanted to do them justice and not stray too far from them. I think people will be amazed with the result.”
Turning to the audience, Debbie flashes her pearly-white teeth. “I think we have a clip of the movie. I can't wait to see it, so here it is, Sophie Devereaux in The Institution.”
The screen fades to a scene of me, dressed up as Allie, wearing a toned-down brown shirt and a black leather jacket and pants. It's the scene where we're driving in a stolen truck, trying to escape from government troops. Allie's little sister Celia is in the passenger seat. I swerve the truck around a sharp corner, dodging bullets shot at us from black-clad men in the pursuing vehicles.
“Allie, look out!” Celia says.
Allie narrowly avoids a futuristic-looking parked car, struggling to regain control of the truck as she barrels down the crowded city street. With a determined look, Allie reaches into the back seat, pulling a hand grenade out of a box of them. She hands it to Celia.
“You know what to do,” Allie says with a knowing glance.
Celia nods, and closes her eyes. Concentrating, the grenade lifts up from her hand and floats in mid-air. She makes a few small gestures, the grenade's pin is invisibly pulled from its housing, and the grenade floats out the truck's window
. A flick of Celia's hands, and the grenade is propelled backward, landing with a clank on the road in front of one of the government cars. It explodes in a fiery conflagration, flipping the pursuing car upside down in a shower of twisted metal.
Allie turns the car down another side-street and into an abandoned warehouse. Celia flicks her wrist again and a giant metal door slams down behind us. The remaining vehicles whizz by, unaware their prey has just eluded them. Braking the truck to a halt with a screech of tire rubber, Allie leans back, gasping for breath. She turns to Celia with a smile. “Great job, sis.”
And the film fades back to the studio, prompting another round of applause from the audience.
“Wow!” Debbie says. “That was fantastic! So, Sophie, when does the film open?”
“In a couple of weeks, on Friday, May 25th.”
“Well, I'm sure this is going to be one of the biggest films of the year, if that scene is any indication. So, what's next for you?”
I give an exhausted smile. “They've already green-lit the sequel, and filming is scheduled to start in a few months,” I say. “But I've been working for, like, eighteen months straight, and I really need a break, so I'm going to spend it with family and friends.”
“Back to Phoenix?”
“For a while. My old friend Michelle and her husband Larry are opening up a little vegetarian café in Tempe, and I promised I'd be there for the grand opening. My best friend-slash-agent Marissa …”
“The same Marissa you mentioned earlier?”
“Yes, the very same. We've been talking about writing a screenplay together, so I'll be working with her on that, too.”
Debbie sits up straight, extending her hand to me. “Well, it was truly great having you here, Sophie. I wish you all the best.” Turning back toward the camera, she says, “Give it up for Sophie Devereaux! We'll be right back with celebrity chef Mary Sue Culpepper!”
Another wave of applause, the music comes up, there's a close-up of me saying a few off-mike words to Debbie, and then the next commercial break begins.
Marissa turns off the TV, smiling at me. “Well, that went really great!”
“I think so, too.” I swallow the last bite of my lunch, put the empty box on the coffee table and stand up, stretching my back and yawning.
“You out of here?” Marissa asks, massaging her tummy again.
“Yeah, I'm beat. I'm going back to my apartment, kicking my shoes off, and spending the next three days in bed.”
“No, you're not,” she says ominously.
My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
She turns to me, a catty smile on her face. “You have a date tonight.”
My jaw drops open. “Excuse me?”
“You have a date,” she repeats. “Giancarlo's. Seven o'clock. Wear something nice. I think the red dress I got you for your birthday last year would be perfect.”
Oh my God, Riss. With you in charge of my schedule, it's a wonder I get any sleep at all. I keep this thought to myself, but retort, “Riss, please. I'm exhausted. Can we make it another night?”
Using her hands, she pushes herself awkwardly to her feet, using the couch's armrest for support, before moving to stand right in front of me. “Soph, you're like a sister to me …”
“I know.”
“And I know how busy you are. But as someone who's off the available list, it's my job as your best friend to vicariously live my fantasy social life through you.”
I make a face. “Very funny.”
Her shoulders slump. “Come on, Soph. It's one dinner at a swanky Hollywood restaurant with a hot guy. It'll take you, like, an hour. Maybe you'll even enjoy it.”
“Who's the guy?”
“Don't know. I've never met him.”
I put my hands on my hips. “So how do you know he's hot?”
“He sounded hot on the phone.”
Now I'm completely befuddled. “Some guy called you on the phone and asked you to set him up with me? Who is he, anyway? A journalist? A director? A studio exec?”
“None of the above. His name's Kevin.”
“Kevin. Great. That tells me so much, Riss.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Look, if it makes you feel better, I checked him out. He's a graphic and comic-book artist from Georgia. I've seen his web page, he's legit. He's in town for some kind of art gallery show, where some of his work will be displayed.”
“An artist, huh?” I suddenly, strangely, find myself intrigued. “I hope he's not one of those neurotic artists who, like, cuts off his ear or something.”
She smiles. “Gee, I hope not. Look, I know you're not much into dating, and you hate blind dates even more, but I really think you'll like this guy.”
“I don't know, Riss …”
“Soph,” she says, going all motherly on me, “as a famous actress, you're expected to show up in public places and get your picture taken with hot guys. It's kind of one of those unwritten rules of Hollywood.”
I harrumph. “I'm really not in the mood for a media circus right now –”
“No worries.” She guides me toward her door. “I've already arranged for a car service to transport you. All you have to do is show up, look pretty, and don't chew with your mouth open.”
“Har de har har.” I throw my hands up. “Fine, I'll go. But if this Kevin turns out to be like the last guy you set me up with, you and me are gonna have words.”
“Will you relax?” she says, opening the front door. “Have fun, be yourself, and tell me all about it in the morning.”
“Whatever you say, Mom,” I giggle, and then I give Marissa a brief hug before walking out to the waiting town-car.
* * *
Why do I always let Riss talk me into this? I am such a pushover, I think as I pull up to Giancarlo's. After trying on several outfits, I did indeed end up choosing Marissa's birthday gift. Not because I'm placating her, but because it really does look awesome on me, even more awesome than the white dress I'd worn for the interview.
A valet opens the car door and I step out, letting the California breeze gently kiss my face. The sun is setting over the Hollywood hills, and I must admit, I'm starving. I'd only been to Giancarlo's once, but the food was phenomenal.
I step through the door, and the hostess, a middle-aged woman with way too much makeup, strides forward to greet me. “Miss Devereaux! Welcome to Giancarlo's. I trust you are well this fine evening?”
I still have a few butterflies in my stomach about meeting my date, nerves I try hard to subdue. Jeez, it's like I'm back in high school. “I'm fine, thank you. I'm supposed to be meeting someone here, someone named Kevin.”
“Ah yes, the young man is expecting you. It's our pleasure to have such a lovely young lady in our establishment, and I took the liberty of giving you a corner booth so you may have some privacy.”
“Thank you.” Giancarlo's interior is even more impressive than the outside. The place is modern yet elegant, and the atmosphere is softly-lit and relaxing, which is exactly what I need right now. Great choice, Riss.
The hostess leads me through the crowded restaurant. I stare straight ahead, hoping nobody recognizes me. Not that I mind signing autographs, I just hate it when my conversation is disturbed. Thankfully, the only person who gives me a look of recognition is a preteen girl who looks to be dining with her folks. I give her a wink as I pass by, and her mouth drops open. I swear I hear her say, “Oh my God,” under her breath.
As I approach the corner booth, a young man, about my age, stands up and greets me. He's tall but not overly so, just under six feet. He has medium-length dark hair, nothing fancy but presentable. He is quite good-looking, and the smile he's giving me is very pleasant and disarming. I step up to him and, determined to make the best impression, match his smile with one of my own. “Hello,” I say, extending my hand. “You must be Kevin.”
“Yes, I must be.” He takes my hand and shakes it. “It's great to meet you. Thank you for coming.” His voice is soft and gen
tle, and, looking at his face more closely, I can see the remnants of a few freckles dotting his cheeks. His eyes are dark brown, and for the briefest of moments, something familiar flashes through my brain, but before I can pinpoint it, it's gone.
I gesture to the table. “Shall we?”
We both sit, and the overly-made-up hostess hands us a couple of menus. “Enjoy your meals. Your server will be along very shortly.”
“Thank you,” Kevin says, and the hostess scurries back to the entrance.
The server comes along immediately with two water glasses, and takes our drink orders. I ask for a simple iced tea with lemon, while Kevin opts for a glass of Chardonnay.
“So …” I say after the server walks away. “You're an artist, huh? You don't look like an artist.”
His mouth curls into a smirk. “I don't? Should I be wearing a beret or a pair of shades or a goatee or something?”
“Or something.” I grin. “Glad you're not, though. I can't picture you with a goatee.”
“That makes two of us.”
The server returns with our drinks and tells us the day's specials. After a full minute of scanning the menu, I choose a shrimp-and-pasta dish while Kevin orders steak. She toddles off to place our order, and we're alone again. “Steak, huh? You don't have to order something expensive or manly to impress me.”
He smiles. “Well, this is my first time in a five-star Hollywood restaurant, so I figure what the hell, order something good.”
I take a sip of tea, and he casually sips from his wine glass. I lean forward, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “All right, spill it.”
“Spill what?” he asks, puzzled.
“I don't know how you did it, but I'd like to know.”
“Um … still not following.”
“How does a comic-book artist from … sorry, where are you from again?”
“Georgia.”
“From Georgia just breeze into town, call my agent and arrange a date with me like it's nothing?”
He gives me a bemused smile, which is more than a little sexy. “What, that doesn't happen all the time?”
“No, this is a first. I hope you're not one of those crazy stalker-fans who has every picture ever taken of me plastered on the walls of his bedroom.”
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